Goat Legroom?

Mountain flights out of Lukla aren't too stringent when it comes to carry-on items. You can board the plane with as much as you can hold in your lap.

This Sherpa lady's carry-on fell within the international standard of the two-bag minimum. One bag of lettuce and cabbage. The other, a severed goat leg. No questions asked. Except, "how are you going to cook that?"

Apparently, it's perfect for stew.

A Little Up, A Little Down

That's Pema's favorite saying here in the Khumbu. To translate that in western terms it would read: A Lot Up, A Lot Down. Sherpas are funny when it comes to hiking conditions. But that's the Himalaya in a nutshell, both physically and mentally.

See, I thought I'd actually relax having already been here before. I know the terrain. I know the drills. But like any extreme environment, the mountains and remoteness of the area aren't here to coddle you. They're here to teach you. And they employ a rollercoaster style curriculum that, in my estimation, will never be recognized or endorsed by the American public school system.

So, what have I learned? I've been selfish this year. And I've now been rewarded for this transgression with a potent brand of loneliness that only this corner of the world can dole out. Karma has a way of kicking your ass when you're on its turf. Now, that's not to say that I haven't enjoyed the company of the Lama of Thame and his wonderful family (and their broken english), or the fabled Spanish Nun who lives high above the monastery who taught me the basics of meditation, or even my non-english speaking porter, Jatar, who not only is younger than me and has two kids but refuses to get passed on the trails. Which is to say, we set a number of tourist trekking land speed records from village to village. Someone look up the time from Namche Bazar to Thame and then let me know if 2 hours and 45 minutes is impressive.

However, once nightfall comes, and you retire to the frigid thin air of your room...reality sets in. It's just you. And if your self-confidence wavers in the slightest, well, good luck trying to have a peaceful night.

But like I mentioned, it is a rollercoaster here. Lonely nights are replaced by epic days of beauty and physical accomplishments that lead to a renewal of self-confidence. Nevertheless, wanting to share this adventure grows with every passing day. So do the thoughts of spending the New Year with friends and family back home.

Yeah, so much for a relaxing time, huh?

So, I've Cheated a Bit

After breaking off from the group in Pangeboche and making my way to Phortse to start my trek to higher altitude in the Gokyo area, I hit a bit of a mental snag. Two restless nights complete with scattered confusion, difficulty breathing and a nagging strain in my neck...I finally woke up to the emotional impact of being alone and surprisingly, fretting over one really bizarre year.

All that aside, I should never make decisions early in the morning as they have proven to be my weakest moments of the day. With that being said, I made my way down to the richer, warm air of Namche Bazar to traverse over to Thame where I'll be staying with the head Lama of the local monastery. Thus scrapping Gokyo and the Renjo Pass.

It's a little bit of a disappointment especially coming on the heels of 9 days of strong trekking carrying my own gear and racing to the tops of each peak we attempted on our two day hikes...one outside of Khumjung and the other outside of Dingboche. So, I'm not quite sure how to process it all right now.

I guess all I can say is that like last time, I have unfinished business in Nepal.

I head for Thame tomorrow where I'll spend 4 or 5 days (no internet) and then I'll make my way to Lukla and on to Kathmandu. Hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving.

Change O' Plans

Saw a poster today that read, "We don't conquer mountains, we conquer ourselves." Inspiration indeed...just 6 hours late. Apparently, I'm still working on that aspect of myself. After trying to procure roughly $1200 USDs in 2 days in a 3rd world country, I've scrapped the Island Peak climb. I'm just glad nobody I know is being held hostage here because, yeah, good luck trying to drum up the ransom money. But, it's not just the money. There's a bit of a fissure in my fortitude.

With that being said, here's the new plan. After the group departs from the trek on the 23rd I'm going to stay in the mountains for another 8 days and trek to several different monasteries. Just me and a porter. To get to one of the monasteries, Thame, does give us the chance to summit Gokyo Ri which registers in around 18,500 ft. Island Peak is at 20,000 ft. and the last 800 ft. require crampons, ice axes, ropes and the $700 climbing permit. Gokyo Ri is free and, according to many, offers comparable views.

So, the technical portion of the trip has been nixed but I do plan on spending plenty of time in the monasteries for some much needed mental clarity and peace. That, and my Kilimanjaro climbing money remains intact.

Alright then, until December 2nd....

Durbar Square

This post has nothing to do with pic other than the fact what I'm about to tell you happens here tenfold. Confused? Let me clarify. One thing I've noticed in nearly every country I've been to, is that guys from every culture all like to spit when stepping up to a wallmounted urinal. It never fails.

Spitting while taking a whizz isn't anything that ever crosses my mind until I hear the inevitable hacking of the guy next to me. That, and right now...but I'm not writing this from a urinal so it doesn't count.

Anyway, Nepal is notorious for its pollution so hacking and spitting are hardly confined to just bathroom visits. It's a national pasttime here. I bet they have an Olympic team...just waiting for the IOC to announce Spitting as a new event. In the meantime, I suppose everyone will just keep practicing in public...and if you are lucky enough to be a guy, the bull's eye on one of them urinal cakes.

Drum Roll, Please

In driver's ed they teach you some crazy nonword acronym that's suppose to keep you alert to all aspects of you vehicular surroundings. I don't remember the actual letters but the principles of the concept are in full effect the second you step out of your hotel here. Most places in America would make you sign a waiver to participate in activities that are on par with the challenge of simply walking down the street here. I've been clipped by no less than a dozen motorcycle mirrors and one pack animal.

To make matters even more exciting, today's traffic was supplemented with parade vehicles packed to the hilt with revelers. Most say it is for the New Year's festival but we all know it's my birthday...so thanks Nepal for the party and making me crap my pants each time I take a stroll.

On a related sidenote, people here love their fireworks. It's fun to see little kids running around lighting firecrackers until you realize they aren't your standard Black Cats but full-on 1/4 sticks of dynamite that can blow a hole the size of a cantalope in most building materials.

Hanging with AP Part 2

Today is a very lively day. Lots of random parades and impromptu celebrations. Fortunately, I've been able to find another free wifi spot to send more pics. Trying to load up on posts because I'll be offline for close to 15 days. That, and everywhere you look around here something catches your eye. Going back to the hotel to get my real camera.

Hanging with AP

I threw on my new fake Mtn Hardwear jacket I bought myself for my birthday and headed to Durbar Square and all its insanity. It's New Year's here, too. I have some video of the parade but all vids will have to wait. This guy was sitting on some temple steps. Missed a shot w/two Buddhist monks chatting up a Hindu yogi. But this dude was pretty cool just sitting their alone.

Mandala

The name of the festival is Tahir. This fine creation was made with colored grains and took about 5 hours to complete.

Color Commentary

Had no idea what this guy was saying but given his delivery I'm sure it involved some profanities and thoughts of ill-repute. Kidding. I think he just wanted me to buy some colored dust.

Festival Swing

I happen to be here during some Hindu festival. I'll get them name written down because when people tell me the name of it sounds like they have inexplicably passed out and are muttering in their sleep.

Anyway, during my mountain bike ride through the nearby villages we'd come across these giant swings that were made especially for the festival. This one happened to straddle the dirt trail we were on so we got off our bikes and hopped on the swing trying to beat the village kids' record for height. We lost.

This here is Mangal Lama my mountain bike guide for the day. If you find yourself in Nepal and want to go on a 1-day or multi-day ride, he's the man:

Mangal
+97714701701
bikehimalayas.com

KTM Valley Ride

Seeing as I signed up for a 10-day mountain bike tour in Madagascar I decided to see how the ol' legs were holding up since I haven't been on a bike in a couple of months now. I'm here to tell you 35k through the KTM valley was a bit of a chore. We started off with a steep climb up a paved road. Steep climbs in Nepal also mean steep descents. Most of the descent were on narrow dirt roads carving through various villages and rice/vegetable fields. Given the landscape, all of the farms are terraced steps on the side of hills...very scenic when you're not doing 100m m.p.h.

Some of the dirt trail climbs were so steep and wet we ended up hiking our bikes up them. However, it was the marginally inclined, rocky trails in the villages that kicked my ass. Oh well, I think I'll be ready for Madagascar come December.

Oh, like Indonesia, I'm very popular with the Nepalese villagers. Kids were running out of their houses and along side us yelling, "Namaste, Hello, How are you? Good bye." Even most adults would stop what they were doing and greet us.

Good times.

Today's a Gift

Thanks for all of the replies regarding Island Peak. Pema and I are going to talk about the logistics of it again today with clear heads. There are a number of challenges to consider. I wish it were a clear cut decision. But whatever I decide to do, I'll make the most of it.

Do what's in your heart and the universe will conspire to help you.

Enjoy your day, everyone...it's a special one.


P.S. Believe in yourself.

Kathmandu

Came across this random stupa wandering around this morning looking for a SIM card and North Face knockoff goods.

Also drank a 20 ml of San Miguel on an empty stomach. While some get intoxicated doing that, Pema and I hatched an ambitious plan to climb Island Peak instead. However, it's a bit pricey so I'm conducting a poll. Here are the options: stay an additional 7 days and climb IP for an extra $950. Or, do a 3-day kayak clinic on the Seti River for $150. Poll closes at noon today so get your votes in via email or blog comment.

This is the armchair interactive portion of my trip. I expect plenty of participation.

Thamel Me You Love Me

Eight years, almost to the day, have passed since I first visited Nepal. While there are a lot more tourists roaming the streets, it still has that same chaotic 3rd world vibe that appeals to me on such a visceral level. It feels eerily like home. I don't mean OKC or even Chicago, my mom would cringe at the thought that people randomly pissing on piles of trash that stray dogs are rooting through would be anything like where she raised me. But being here just feels right.

How I got here, however, would appeal to even the snobbiest of travelers...first class on Jet Airways. There I was in camo shorts sitting among suited execs eating my breakfast off real 'jina. I mean china. Not too bad for someone without a job...or a shower for that matter.

I'll post a pic when I get a chance. I'm staying in the Thamel District at a place called Hotel Holy Himalaya. Even ran into the guy who sold us a rug 8 years ago.

Now you all know where I am. Not hitting the trail until the 13th. There's time to join me should one of you get a wild hair.

My Dad, the Brain Surgeon

On a wildly uneventful bus ride from Chiang Mai back to Bangkok, I found myself rereading emails on my cellphone to pass the time. I came across one that asked if I would miss friends and family during the holidays. The answer is, yes. It also got me thinking about my favorite family holiday road trip. Since this blog is about travel, it applies. Now, before I get into this particular story it is important that you all have a basic understanding of my dad's educational background.

Hanging on the wall in his home office are two framed diplomas issued in his name by Oklahoma State University. One, Teaching. The other, Mechanical Engineering. Neither of which qualifies him to perform any kind of medical procedure, except maybe hand out some aspirin. Even then, you'll want to check the bottle yourself to make sure you aren't getting decades old birth control pills or the dog's heartworm medicine.

Let's flashback many years to a time without cellphones...but beepers. Only doctors and one swank oilman carried pagers. Primarily doctors, though. Our family had driven from Oklahoma City to Kansas City to visit The Plaza in all its holiday glory. One night in particular, we found ourselves at a restaurant called The Train Depot or Station, something to that regard because is was housed in a converted train station. And given the prices on the menu, they were wholly expecting their customers to pay for whatever bill was outstanding for the remodeling conversion.

Being on a budget, we all panicked at the sight of the cheapest menu item: standard hamburger for $22. We had already been seated and outfitted with a lazy susan tray that had an assortment of spring rolls, mini-burritos, and other things that had been wrapped and fried. Now really, how does a family of six graciously exit before ordering without looking like a bunch of povs? Remember the beeper? In a stroke of genius, I borrowed a quarter from my dad and called his pager from the payphone near the bathrooms. It went off as the waitress arrived to take our order. "Oh, looks like the hospital is trying to get a hold of me, do you have a phone?" The waitress brought a phone to the table and stood there as he randomly hit 7 digits on the keypad. "Uh huh. Really? Now? I'm having dinner with my family. I see. I'll be right there." All of this dialogue was heard by us, the waitress, and a busy signal.

"Jeez, I hope it's nothing too serious," the waitress responded, taking back the phone. My dad, not one to lie easily, looked her dead in the eye and without hesitation said, "Yep, emergency brain surgery."

Emergency. Brain. Surgery. Those are the words he used. Unbelievable.

We all sighed as if another dinner with dad had been ruined because of his duty to save lives. We got up and walked somberly behind him past the scrumptious salad bar toward the door, seemingly contemplating the fears and anxiety of the fictional patient he was about to crack into with a brain saw.

At the car, we doubled over laughing and celebrated our collective cleverness with high-fives. Each of us hurriedly spitting out our favorite moment of the scam. We then piled into the car with the bogus brain surgeon at the wheel in search of a restaurant that marketed good food at family-friendly prices. Can't remember where we ended up, though. Probably the Sizzler.

Tuk-Tuk

This shot was taken by Ken during our epic Tuk-Tuk ride the first night in Bangkok. If you click on the image to get the bigger view you should be able to see Ken and I in the rearview mirrors. Our driver was out getting directions for the umpteenth time.

Frogger

After spending time in Jakarta I've become something of an expert crossing streets in larger Asian metro areas. Except in this case. Ken managed to dart through a few lanes of traffic while I had to wait another 15 minutes to make my own way across. I think the frustration shows on my face. I actually thought about punching that car.

Signage

This sign was posted in my hotel. It looks to be a bit dark but the highlights read No Drugs, No Sex Trade, and No Ladyboys. In addition to everything being ridiculously cheap here, so are sex change operations. So there's a healthy or unhealthy (depending on how you look at it) population of the abovementioned ladyboys.

Gold Medal Weight Loss

I have the Ben Johnson of metabolisms. I burn through the caloric intake of any meal just with the effort it takes to eat it. That's how fast my metabolism runs. It reminds me of my sister Leslie's first dog, a chihuahua named Calvin. Real ambitious type. And scrappy. Scrappy as all hell. Instead of eating his own food, which was some mush dished out in tablespoon-sized cup, he'd go for a single chunk of the bigger dog's food. The bigger dog being Rocky, a 12-lb schnauzer. Calvin would work on this single chunk of food for an hour before polishing it off. As it turned out, after visit to the vet, we discovered that Calvin had become malnourished. He was exhausting so much energy eating that single chunk of food that he was literally starving after he finished it.

That's me. I eat all the time but just can't seem to take in more calories than I burn. Fortunately, I haven't lost that much weight...the title there is a little misleading but I do miss a Sonic burger and the activity of just sitting in a chair letting what little fat manages to survive my metabolism's wrath to pile on.

As for Calvin, one afternoon my dad and I got a frantic phone call from Leslie. He had darted out of her apartment which was part of a large complex built on some newly developed farm land. He had been missing for about 15 minutes when a stark reality set in, being no larger than a mouse, he was without a doubt boosted by a hawk. They used to flock like pigeons in that area. Given the fact he was a fearless dog, I like to imagine his struggle as being on par with Brad Pitt's character in Legends of the Fall when he encounters the bear at the end of the movie. "And it was a good death."

Wow, I have no idea what's going on with this post.

A Little Legroom Please

WTF?! I know Thai people are short but this is a bit ridiculous even by SE Asia standards. I guess for a 120 baht a night for a hotel room you can't gripe too much about the bathroom being smaller than an airplane toilet. That knob on the side of the pic is for the shower. Yes, I put the seat down and stood on the toilet for maximum showering space. Sorry Caryn, didn't think it would be right to take a picture of myself in the bathroom. The next pic I promise will have me in it.

Here's yet another goofy little translation hiccup I came across...this grocery store was boasting their product offerings on a sign in their window: BUTTER, MAGAZINES, TISSUES, INGREDIENTS. Oh really? Ingredients? Ingredients for what? Touching yourself inappropriately? Eeeesh.

To the Slaughter

Since I'm back at the Muay Thai gym, I thought I'd entertain you all with a story from an actual fight I went to see. Kawilla Stadium, it considers itself to be "the only one main standard stadium in North Thailand...REAL MUAY THAI NOT SHOW FIGHT!" Apparently, there's a touristy venue that puts on demo fights but not these guys, as clearly indicated on their flyers. Though these are real fights, the flyers can be a bit misleading. It appears that they only have a small collection of tough-looking Thai fighter photos that constantly get recirculated on each new flyer. Kind of like stock photography. The pics are never actually of the people that are fighting. The names are correct but not the photos. A bit troublesome when you place a bet based on a photo. Good thing the odds on the fight and return on your bet change throughout the actual match. Not that that would ever fly in Vegas.

Anyway, this story is about one Thai fighter in particular who is affectionately called, The Pig. Now The Pig, again, with affection, is an exceptional study in both courage and stupidity. See, The Pig is way obese, even by American standards, which makes him a bit of a novelty here in Thailand. A freak of Thai nature worth the price of admission alone. "Come one and all to see the amazing Overweight Thai Man, he'll astound you with his girth." He is also called The Pig because he is often pitted against rookie western guys looking for their first "Thai fight." A sacrificial swine thrown into the ring to build up the egos and resume of aggressive Americans and Europeans.

The study in courage comes from the understanding that any westerner who would travel thousands of miles to train and compete in one of the most violent fighting techniques in its country of origin is probably hellbent on kicking someone's ass. To be fairly overweight and marginally talented takes real courage to get into the ring. I doubt I'd do it. But The Pig always shows.

Now, the study in stupidity stems from, well, the same damn reasoning. I mean really, why? Why get in the ring knowing it isn't going to go well for you? Why take 5 knees to the head? It's stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Okay, let me back up. That's not to say this dude isn't tough or that he can't do some harm himself but, yeah, why?

Nevertheless, I like The Pig...for his courage. I'm sure he has his own reasons for getting into the ring each time he gets the call to fight a westerner. I'd really like to know what's going on in that brain of his. But for now, I'll settle for his bravado.

Interesting sidenote, some girl with an eyepatch just walked by the internet cafe. Hey Bart, who knew there were hot pirate chicks in Thailand. Arrrrrrggghhh.

Oh, it's also time to hand out the award for Most Blog Comments by One Person...and the winner is: Patty Stodola. Congratulations, Patty! You get a special gift from a Palaung village in Northern Thailand. No, not water buffalo feces. But good guess. It's a handmade craft from an old lady with black teeth.